


Truth Hurts

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Eating Disorders, Fat Shaming, Fluff, Homophobia, Hugs, Hurt John, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, M/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Truth Serum, barely there, truth potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: One night while John and Brian are out, three Beatles venture out of their hotel and stumble upon an odd shop where they meet a mysterious lady. This lady can see their souls and gives them a gift to take back to their friend.Who knew giving John Lennon a truth serum could be do painful? Not just for him, but for everyone around him.Masks are created for a reason and it hurts when they break.
Relationships: Brian Epstein/John Lennon, George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/John Lennon/Paul McCartney/Ringo Starr, John Lennon & Julian Lennon, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 86
Kudos: 153





	1. A Strange Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic in one day, wow.  
> jaja  
> i hope you like it

Touring, when it wasn’t exhausting, was boring. Everything was planned and scheduled, with almost no breaks to run around and be free. So when Brian dragged a whiny John off to a club and left the other three behind, they were overjoyed.

“Poor Johnny, getting stuck with all them high society folk.” Laughed George as he saw the limo pull away from the hotel.

Paul grumbled into a cushion, rather upset at being left behind. Brian took John because he identified him as the leader, even though there really wasn’t one. Paul and John were meant to be equals, but Brian was too enamoured with the older lad to see that.

Ringo came out of his room wearing a coat and holding the other two’s. “Come on then, where are we going?”

Paul looked up at him, “Sorry?”

“We can’t be expected to stay inside, not after being locked up for weeks!” Ringo exclaimed and threw the coats at their owners.

George happily put it on, a crooked smile on his face. “Yeah, Paul, we could go explore the sights.”

The bassist considered pointing out that if Brian found out they were gone he’d explode, but then he remembered that he was currently mad at Brian (and John) so it didn’t matter. Therefore, he stood up, grabbed his coat, and spread his arms. “Let’s go then!”

Giggling, the four boys evaded security after checking that Mal and Neil were busy drinking themselves silly. They exited the hotel through a back door and ran to the street. Luckily, the fans hadn’t discovered where they were staying yet.

They walked past the restaurant next to the hotel with Ringo snapping away with his camera. They passed a sadly closed pastry shop, a boutique, another restaurant, and then they stopped in front of a spooky looking store.

_ Ancient Mysteries _

_ Perfect Love & Perfect Trust _

It was a small locale, but it caught their attention nonetheless. More than that, it was open.

“What’d you supposed they sell here then?” George wondered out loud.

“Metaphysical supplies, potions, and magical objects.” Answered Ringo.

As Paul frowned at the rather confident answer, George hummed.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“It says so on the window.” Ringo pointed and indeed, there it was.

Paul scratched his face and shrugged. “So are we going in? Probably the only place open at this hour.” 

They looked at each other, then shrugged at each other.

“Why not?” Said George and went to the door.

They heard a bell jingle when they entered, though they could not see it. It was a poorly lit establishment filled to the brink with shelves and books on the floor along with shit hanging from the ceiling.

“Hello?” Called out Ringo. “Anyone here?”

There was no answer.

“Ey, lads, look at this!” Paul exclaimed and pointed at a grey and sunking skull.

George shut his eyes and groaned. “That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, come off it. It’s fake.” Paul laughed at him.

They kept on exploring the shop, pointing out strange things and making faces at the craziest ones. Ringo stopped to stare at what looked to be an old doll of an old lady. 

“Hey, this one looks real-Fuck!” He jumped back when the doll's eyes opened and stared straight at him. 

Except it wasn’t a doll, it was an actual old lady and she was walking towards them. 

The boys shuffled away in fright and tripped over little boxes and bottles littered over the floor. 

“No, no, boys.” Said the woman. “Do not be frightened. I be here to help, yes?”

They stared at her with wide eyes. 

She looked over them and gave a knowing smile. “You want answer, no?”

Paul curled his lip in confusion. “‘Answer’?”

“Answer to life, no?” She nodded at them. 

Ringo raised a hand. “Uh, no. No, thank you. We’re doing alright.”

She chuckled and stepped closer. “Not now. Later. When hair grows and travel ceases. When death strikes and bodies creak. You will want answer then.”

George tilted his head and stopped moving away. “How do you know?”

She giggled and tapped her head. “I know.” Was her answer. She looked them over again and her eyes narrowed. “One of you, unwanted child, missing.”

The three lads looked at each other. ‘Unwanted child’? Could she mean John? That was a bit mean.

George seemed to think so. He laughed and walked closer to her. “Yes! How did you know?”

Paul, ever the skeptic, scoffed at her. “She probably knows us from the papers, George. Don’t trust her. She’ll rob us blind!”

The younger man didn’t listen. He asked again, “How did you know?”

She tapped her head again. “I know.” Then, suddenly, she reached over and took hold of George’s arm, forcing him to bend over.

Ringo jumped to his side, “Oi-!”

“No, no. It’s okay!” George soothed him and kneeled in front of her. “What is it, m’am?”

With a furrowed brow, she put a palm on his forehead and spoke, “Young child. Family child. Alone. Quiet. No. Tears are never quiet.”

Paul and Ringo shared a glance. What was this lady talking about? George never cried. 

She kept going, to George’s awe. 

“A heavy shadow looms over you, boy. Be careful not to drown in it.” She caressed his hair. “Brilliant child, do not weep. A heart be worth more than ink.” And she let him go. 

George turned to him, tears in his eyes yet with a bright smile. “She heard me.” He whispered. 

Ringo walked to him and put his arms around him. “Now now, lad. You heard her, don’t weep.” He stared at Paul as George buried his face on his neck. 

Paul glared at the woman. “Now, you listen here-”

“Innocent child.” She interrupted with a finger pointed at him. “Innocent child. Sweet mother. Death. Broken child.”

The bassist fisted his hands and ground his teeth together. How dare this woman use his mother? “Been reading the papers, then?” 

“No paper. Only life.” 

She stepped closer and he let her, determined not to show fear. 

A hand touched his forehead. “Jealous child, so afraid of deficiency. Never cried. Never loved.” The hand caressed his cheek and for a moment, Paul felt his mother’s hand in it. “Afraid of judgement. Afraid of leap. Afraid of himself.”

While Ringo looked on, thoroughly disturbed, George was nodding along as though all she was saying made sense. 

“Genius child, look up at sky. You are amongst stars.” And her hand disappeared. 

Paul let out a deep breath and realized he was a second away from letting a tear fall. He was quick to blink them away, though he never turned away from the woman. He felt violated, yet free. She’d seen him. 

Ringo was understandably afraid when she turned to him and he held still as she approached. George took his hand and smiled encouragely at him.

He didn’t have to lean down for her to touch him, her hand seemingly rough and incredibly soft at the same time. 

“Miracle child.” She whispered with a smile. “Born of sugar. Sick child, dying child. A fighter.” Her hand moved down to his chest, “Heart of gold, nerves of steel.” But then her smile vanished. “Alone. Abandoned again. Courage is not found in liquid.” And she moved away. 

Ringo did not feel particularly special or moved, though they were her eyes had seen through him...She’d felt him. 

She moved away from them and bowed her head. “Unwanted child hard to know. A mask he wears, for all and himself.”

Paul followed her. “John? You mean John Lennon?”

The old lady moved towards a counter near the back of the shop and started rummaging around. “This mask will tear friends apart, break paper and heart. Music will stop and mask will choke child.”

They listened with fright and awe, worried over her words. 

She pointed a bony finger at Paul. “Genius child, soulmate. Come to me.”

With shaky steps, he did as told. The rational part of him told him that the lady was cruel and insane, but another part told him that she was the only person he could trust. Once he was close to her, she regarded him with sad eyes. 

“Your heart will suffer the most, boy. It is then that you learn to cry and to love.” She said quietly. 

Paul shook his head, “I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with John?”

“Everything.” Was her answer. But then her mouth quirked up and she held up a small vial. “I offer solution.”

He frowned at her, “Solution?”

The other two also walked to them. “What’s going on?”

The lady shook the vial. “The mask destroys. A mask dies by truth. I give you truth in glass.”

They blinked. 

George tilted his head, “So this is like a truth serum?”

She nodded eagerly. 

“For John?” Paul asked, skeptical now. He didn't want to drug John with some crap from a witch.

As if reading his thoughts, her wide eyes turned to him. “Soulmate. Save unwanted child.” She offered the vial to him. 

Paul reached out to take it, but hesitated before grabbing it. “How much-?”

“No money.” She shook her head. “Boys deserve happiness. No money.”

The three looked at each other and shrugged. Paul took the vial and in an instant, the lady was gone. As much as they looked around and called out, she did not appear. 

They shuffled outside and Ringo took in a deep breath of cold air. 

“Alright, that was weird.” He murmured and went to get out his cigarettes. 

George chuckled and spun in a circle. “It was bloody brilliant!”

Paul stared at the vial. “Should we, then? Give this thing to John, y’know.”

The other two turned to him. 

Ringo shook his head, “I don’t reckon it’s very safe.”

“But she was so kind!” George argued. “She wouldn’t hurt us. She  _ heard _ us.”

Paul took off the cork and sniffed it, then shrugged. “Doesn’t smell like anything.”

Ringo sighed. “Maybe it’s just water and we got taken by fools.”

George glared at him. “Then there’s no harm in trying it out. Paul can slip it into John’s tea and-”

“Sorry, what? Why am I the one doing this?” Paul complained as he put the cork back. 

“Because John won’t be suspicious if  _ you _ make him tea, you mother.” The guitarist smirked. 

Ringo chuckled along, cigarette in hand. “He’s not wrong.” 

Paul groaned at them, but begrudgingly agreed. 

So back to the hotel they went, three little Beatles with a witch’s words stumbling around in their tired heads. They’d barely taken off their coats when the suite door opened and a breathless John walked in. 

His tie was missing and his shirt was partway unbuttoned. As always, the boys pointedly didn’t look at the hickey on his neck courtesy of their manager, and waved at him happily. 

“‘Ello, lads! I hope you weren’t too miserable without ma lovely self.” His accent had thickened with drink and exhaustion. 

“Ah, of course not, Mr. Lennon. Of course not.” Ringo indulged him. 

Paul emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea. “Made you something for that headache you’re sure to have.” 

John took it with a thankful smile. “And that’s why you’re ma favourite, princess.”

Paul scowled and suddenly didn’t feel too guilty about the liquid he’d poured in that tea. “Don’t call me that.” He went to sit with the other two and they stared, a bit too obviously, as he drank the whole thing in one go. 

John slammed the cup down onto the coffee table and stood up. “Well then, lads. I’m dead knackered. Off to bed with me.” He gave them a goofy smile and walked off. 

Paul called after him, “You feel okay, Johnny?”

John threw a thumbs up at him. “Always, Macca.” Then he entered his room and shut the door. 

The other three looked at each other in disappointment. 

“Just water then.” Ringo muttered. 

George crossed his arms. “You don’t know that, maybe it just needs time.”

Paul sighed and stood up. “Whatever, Geo. I’m going to sleep now.” And off he went, with no idea of what he’d just done. 

Everything was bound to change now.


	2. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a nice short chapter today. thank you all for all the love this story has been getting!

The next morning found Paul, Ringo, and George eating breakfast. Brian walked in without a hair out of place, followed by Neil.

“Morning, boys.” Their manager said to them.

George greeted them around a spoonful of cereal.

Brian frowned, “Where’s John? We’re leaving for the airport in four hours.”

Paul pointed back at his partner’s bedroom. “Still asleep, I think.”

Brian sighed and went to wake him. They couldn’t afford to be late! He entered the room and saw a figure curled up in bed. The man sighed and went to him. He sat by the side of the bed and slowly shook his shoulder. One had to be careful when waking up John Lennon or one would end up with a black eye. 

The man grumbled and turned away.

Brian chuckled despite himself. “Time to wake up, John.”

“Mmh,no.” The man murmured and burrowed into the covers.

“Breakfast is served.” 

“I shouldn’t eat.”

Brian cooed and played with the strand of his lover’s hair. “Come on, I brought cornflakes.”

John’s eyes snapped open and narrowed upwards at the man. Brian naturally expected some sort of snarky comment about bribery or sabotage, which is why he was so surprised by what was said.

“I love you.” John whispered.

Brian blinked.

John blinked.

“Oh.” Was the only thing the manager could think to say.

The younger man sat up. “I mean- I love you.” He said, then gasped at his own words. “That is, you make me feel safe and wanted even when I don’t deserve it. And you never leave me even when I’m a bastard and you’re so wonderful-“ He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Brian shook his head, moved beyond words. “Oh, John, I- I didn’t know you felt like that.”

From behind the fine hand, a muffled ‘I do’ was heard. 

Brian drew him to a hug. “You don’t have to be afraid, sweetheart. I feel the same.”

John tensed momentarily in his hold, before relaxing and letting himself be held. What had come over him? He’d just vomited the words out without meaning too. It felt like his mouth was ignoring his will, yet apparently Brian wasn’t disgusted. But this upset the whole balance of their relationship, now Brian knew how John really felt and so there went out his emotional defense. 

“I love you too.” Brian murmured into his neck.

Again, John felt his mouth open without his permission. “You shouldn’t. I’m a dangerous mess.” What the fuck was wrong with him?

The other man moved away and frowned at him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem eager to open up that can of worms. “Let’s get you some breakfast, alright?”

John forced himself not to speak. He silently followed Brian out of the room, cringing at the sound of the others talking. 

Paul looked up at him, “Sleep well, Lennon?” He teased.

John smirked, but it didn’t match his words as he spoke. “Better than usual. I didn’t have nightmares for once.” 

Everyone stared at him.

Ringo spoke up first. “Eh, that’s great, lad.”

George narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you have nightmares often, John?”

Paul glared at George as the older man answered almost immediately.

“All the time, I barely get any sleep.” John blinked at himself. Why would he reveal that? He was supposed to be the leader! Leaders didn’t get nightmares.

George’s eyes and grin widened. “Really, and what are they-?”

“George, that’s enough.” Ringo said firmly. His eyes never left John however, and there was a sick curiosity within them. 

Paul was staring at John, a guilty hole on his stomach. The damned potion had worked and now John was helpless to their nagging. A part of Paul was terribly eager to take advantage, but he held that part back. He was John’s friend first and foremost; friends wouldn’t exploit this.

George didn’t see the problem. The old lady had said this would help John! 

Neil pushed a plate of eggs in the singer’s direction. “Here, eat something.”

John went to grab it, but said, “I shouldn’t eat this, I’ll get fatter than I already am.”

Everyone paused their movements. John frowned at himself. 

“Oh, John.” Brian whispered.

The younger man stood up abruptly from the table. “I’m embarrassed.” He burst out and then winced. “So I’ll go hide from you now.” And he ran off to his room.

“John, wait-“ Paul spoke but the door slammed and shot him down.

Neil looked down at the egg plate. “What was that about?”

Brian turned to the remaining Beatles, “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

They were silent. What could they say? ‘We drugged John because an old lady told us to’?

“Boys?” Brian prompted again.

“Must the stress from the tour.” Said Paul finally. “I’ll talk to him later.” And then he could explain to John exactly what was going on. He only hoped the man forgave him.

* * *

An hour later, Paul walked into John’s bedroom with a cup of tea as a peace offering. He found the lad smoking as he stared out the window.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” John said and it pained Paul to know that, for once, he was saying the absolute truth.

Paul held up the tea. “Brought you a cuppa.” He said meekly.

“That sounds nice.” The man said, his angry tone not fitting his words. Slightly quieter, he cursed at himself. 

Paul didn’t find it in himself to smile at the words. He went to his partner’s side and offered the cup.

With a roll of his eyes, John took it and drank it in one go. He grimaced, “It tastes horrible.”

Paul nodded at the ground, “Yup.”

His partner crossed his arms and looked out the window. “I’m scared, Macca. Words keep spilling out of me against my will and making me vulnerable- I hate being vulnerable- and I’m so embarrassed about this morning and I’m doing it again  _ now _ and I-“

“I’m sorry.” Paul let out. “I did this to you.”

John tilted his head, “I don’t understand, what are you talking about?” 

Paul bit his lip and let out a breath. “Last night we went out, the lads and I, we found this shop and we, eh, met a witch.” 

John frowned, “Witch?”

“Yes, and she gave us a truth serum-“

The older man glared at him, “You are mocking me right now.”

Paul shook his head frantically, “What? No!”

John stepped away, “Making stories up to laugh at me. I bet you’re glad now I’m a mess, you can finally take my place as leader of the band.”

Paul scoffed at him. 

“You think just because you’re better than me-“

“I’m not better than you.” 

“Oh but you are! Better writer, better musician, better looking, better person, better  _ father _ .” John hissed, eyes teary. 

Paul was silent. He had no idea his friend felt this way. How could he have been so blind? “I…”

“But I’m the leader, understand?” John growled, almost desperately. “It’s all I have!”

Paul raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to take that from you.” He said.

“I don’t believe you.”

The bassist sighed quietly.

John blinked and stepped away. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said all that.”

“Because it’s true.” Paul whispered.

John groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t believe you about that witch.” He said. “But I don’t believe you would lie to me. It’s confusing and I hate it.”

Paul stepped closer to rest a hand on John’s shoulder. “I bet. I promise I’ll fix this, okay? Don’t worry.”

“I’m worried all the time.” John said, then curled up into himself.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

Paul cleared his throat and looked at the ground, “Can I...can I hug ye?”

John looked up and squinted at him.

For a moment, Paul feared a cruel rejection and he brazed himself.

But John just answered with, “I would love nothing more.”

And Paul smiled brightly because he knew it was true. He took the older man into his arms and allowed him to bury his face on his neck.

“This is nice.” Came John’s grudgingly voice. 

Paul chuckled, “Yes. It  _ is _ nice.”

Almost too nice, thought Paul, but there was no need to think about that. This was just a hug between friendly friends. Best friends. Buddies. Close acquaintances. Partners. Yes. That was it.

Just friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment or kudo if u liked C8


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Enjoy!

John had been quiet ever since Paul had coaxed him out, even holding his hand over his mouth to stop himself from letting any more unfortunate words spew out. He was sitting at the back of the plane, next to Brian, trying to stop himself from curling up to his side. He munched on a chocolate bar, keeping his mouth occupied.

George was not so subtly staring at him from further up the plane, while Paul hugged his knees to his chest and sulked in shame. Ringo was playing solitaire of all things, silently trying to think of ways that they could reverse the potion. Two hours after the incident in the morning, he and Paul had run off to the shop to try and find an antidote- but they found a pastry shop run by a young lad instead. The witch had been nowhere to be seen.

Brian, after checking that no one was too close to listen in, turned to John and put a warm hand on his knee. “Are you doing better, sweetheart?” He asked.

John sighed and put down the chocolate bar. “I feel fine, Eppy. I just can’t control what I’m saying and it scares me.”

Brian frowned at him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He murmured.

John looked at him with grim eyes. “Me neither.” And he turned away.

* * *

“I don’t see what’s so awful about it.” George muttered into his cards. Ringo has finally convinced him and Paul to play a round or two.

“Didn’t you see him?” Paul whisper screamed at him. “He looked embarrassed and afraid.” He shuddered just thinking about it.

“It’ll be good for him.” George responded.

Ringo shook his head. “Break a man to save him, eh? Doesn’t seem right.”

“It isn’t.” Paul declared. “We have to be careful with what we say. Never ask anything of him or say something too prying. Especially in front of the press.” The last thing they needed was John spilling out something about him and Brian or some other scandalous behaviour.

George sighed, but nodded. He was tired of arguing about it and determined to not feel guilty. He was convinced he was in the right, by the time this ended, he was sure that John would  _ thank _ him.

Ringo won the game, as expected. And he turned red after looking at the back of the plane accidentally. 

Paul turned around to follow his gaze and his eyebrows raised as he saw Brian and John engaged in a very passionate French kiss. John was practically on Brian’s lap, holding on to his neck like his life depended on it. He felt a pang of jealousy at the sight, and then a pang of guilt. He was upset that John found comfort in their manager in ways he couldn’t with Paul. But the bassist simply couldn’t do that sort of thing with John, no matter what the deep corners of his mind wished. He was no queer, he couldn’t be. 

George was also looking at the snogging pair in amusement, clearly astonished at their brave display. There was no press on the plane and Neil was certainly keeping the stewardess occupied, so there really was no danger. But still, John was very reserved about his relationship with Brian, to see him sitting on top of the man snogging the life out of him was, in a word,  _ unusual _ . But good for him, thought George, let John feel brave enough to kiss the man he loved whenever he wanted. They deserved that at least. He’d occasionally wondered what kissing a bloke would be like(John seemed to enjoy it if the loud moan he released into Brian’s mouth was anything to go by), but knew better than to mention it. Two queers in a boy band wouldn’t be good for anyone, and besides, no one would be interested in George. 

Ringo was trying to focus on the cards and not the passionate act in front of him, but still found himself feeling hot under the collar. Something about seeing the two men engaged in such an act did wild things to his mind. But he shook his head and closed his eyes, how dare he think of his friends like that? What they did was their private business and he had no right to make it into a wet dream.

So, very much in a self aware way, they pointedly turned their gazes away and returned to their gaze, ignoring the little breathy moans they occasionally heard. And if the pair eventually moved towards the bathroom, well- they hardly noticed.

* * *

John felt relaxed. Nothing like a good fuck to make you forget your troubles. The plane had landed and he’d barely even noticed. He just happily went into the limousine and leaned back against the seat. A young fan had thrown him a stuffed seal, which he clutched tight to his chest despite himself. Damn him, it gave him comfort. It was soft and cute and would make a great toy for Julian that John could occasionally steal for himself.

Paul had gotten a penguin from the same girl and he sat staring at it with a critical eye. No doubt he was also going to gift it to Julian (he was the only kid they knew) and was planning on how to surprise the boy with it.

John would just pass it on to Cynthia and let her take care of it, but Paul would surely hide it in a suitcase and plan a clever game to get the child to find the animal. He was a good man like that. John couldn’t find it in himself to bother- as long as Julian got it that was fine by him, why stretch it out?

George had gotten a turtle, which he kept on top of his head like a green hat. John knew that he’d keep it, maybe on a couch as decoration during the day, then next to him in bed as he slept. George was a cuddly man when he slept and it would do him good to have something to hold. 

Ringo has received a blue whale (The girl surely got the toys from her local aquarium) that was acting as a pillow against the window. He wouldn’t keep it. Maybe he’d forget it in a hotel room or let John take it to Julian. Oh, he was definitely grateful to the little girl, but John knew that Ringo wasn’t the biggest fan of gifts from people he didn’t know. 

John was happy to see that even Brian had gotten something, a tiny polar bear with a polka dot scarf that matched Brian’s own. It was very cute. Brian would keep it in his bed for John’s sake and maybe stare at it fondly over the rim of a cup of tea in the morning. 

They arrived at the hotel without much fanfare, since it was quite late. There were four rooms: one for Mal and Neil, one for Paul and Ringo, one for George and John, and one for Brian(and John). George was such a heavy sleeper that John could go and come back as he pleased, not that George would give a damn anyway. 

Ringo, tired as he was, went to sleep almost immediately and George followed soon after with a drink and a smoke to lure him to bed. Soon it was just John and Paul, lying on the sofas feeling both tense and relaxed. Relaxed because of their comfortable positions, tensed in case Paul said something that forced John to reveal a dirty secret. John hadn’t spoken all day, which felt very odd, but perhaps it was better than spilling out his heart.

But soon enough neither of them could take the silence and they both went to speak.

“I like yer penguin-“

“The scotch’s good-“

They stopped and stared at each other. Then John grinned and Paul grinned back. The bassist picked up the black and white creature from where it had ended up on the floor and smiled drunkenly at it. “It is cute, innit?”

John hummed. “I love stuffed animals.” He revealed happily, the drink making his loose tongue appear more tolerable to his mind. “They’re comforting. Like cats, but less mean.”

Paul nodded in understanding. “She had good aim, the girl. Hit the five of us with her fluffy projectiles.”

John giggled and snorted. “Yeah...she looked like Cynthia a bit, didn’t she?”

Paul frowned up at the ceiling. “She wasn’t blonde.” He said.

“Neither was Cynthia, until I goaded her into it.”

Paul bit his lip and let out a sigh. “I suppose.” 

“She still paints, y’know.” John murmured quietly. “When she ain’t too busy with Julian.”

Paul wasn’t sure of what to say. He’d never thought to care about her art, the same way he’d never bothered to care about Stu’s. The art student side of John didn’t involve him.

John didn’t seem to care. “I never told her to stop, Macca. Her art, that is. But I never encouraged her either. Someone needed to take care of the kid and I wasn’t about to let the band go.” He sounded defiantly ashamed.

And what could Paul say to that? He wasn’t sorry that Paup had chosen him- that is, the band, over Cynthia and Julian. They needed John to succeed and how well they had succeeded. Maybe it made him a bad person, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing. Not even for little Julian’s sake. 

John turned to him and his eyes were painfully sad. “I did love her once, Macca. But I don’t love her anymore. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Paul sighed and sat up, facing his teary eyed friend. “No, she doesn’t. But you can’t force love.” He should know, what with his daily attempts at it whenever he was with Jane.

John also sat up, mirroring him. “I love Brian.” He declared. No doubt it was the potion that was making him say the words, but it was the drink that removed the shame.

Paul squished down the sharp pang he felt in his heart and gave a small nod. “I know.” He whispered.

John seemed to take his quietness as disapproval. “He’s good to me, Paul. He  _ cares _ .”

I care, thought Paul bitterly.

“He’s sweet and gentle, careful and patient.” John gushed. “He accepts me-“

“I accept you!” Paul couldn’t help but exclaim. He sighed after and buried his face on his palms. “I accept you.” He repeated in a whisper.

John blinked at him, then chuckled. “I mean the queer side, Macca. Brian is queer so-“

Paul shook his head, looking bewildered. “I, I don’t care that you’re queer.”

John just chuckled again. “Of course you do. How can you not? I have a hard time accepting it myself and I’m the one getting fucked.” He shrugged, rather sadly.

Paul stood up and went to his side, sitting down and bumping his friend’s shoulder with his own. “Come on, John. Give me more credit than that. Sure in the beginning I was- I was confused. But I’m not some sheltered kid anymore, I don’t give a crap if you like sleeping with men.” He winced at the crude words. “Or if you...you can love men.”

John tilted his head at him. “Really? It doesn't,” He swallowed, “Disgust you?”

Paul shook his head with a thin smile. Oh Johnny, if only you knew what the deep corners of my mind really thought.

John leaned against him. “I am very relieved and thankful.” He whispered. “I don’t ever want to lose you, Macca. Out of everyone I’ve loved in my life, I love you the most.”

Paul froze, his breath getting caught on his throat. “What?” He choked out. He turned to face John with wide eyes, but found his partner asleep against his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, then shook his head. Of course John didn’t mean it like  _ that _ . He had Brian! No, what he’d meant was that he loved Paul as a friend and brother. Yes, that was it. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

* * *

John groaned as he woke up, feeling heavy and weary. His head was aching and his body weak. Great, he’d gotten drunk last night. He blinked his eyes open and saw the ugly painting that was next to his bed. Quickly, he shut them again. 

How had he gotten to bed? The last thing he remembered was opening a bottle of booze with Paul but then his mind went blank. 

“I hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing.” He said out loud, then winced at the rough tone of his voice. 

A loud snore next to him startled him and he sat up, gasping as he saw Paul laying on the floor with a blanket over him, snoring for once in his life.

“Did you carry me here?” John wondered as he looked down at the partner, unconsciously admiring how the faint light that passed the blinds caressed Paul’s dark hair.

There was the beginnings of a beard dusted upon his jaw, his hair was in disarray, and his nose was scrunched up against his arm- but he was the most beautiful thing John had ever laid eyes on. 

He loved Brian, but Paul? To know Paul McCartney was to be in love. The man was an intoxicating mix of looks, passion, and kindness. A rough, laddish kindness but kindness nonetheless. Paul was special. John had known that ever since he first laid eyes on a baby faced kid that looked just enough like Elvis for a pair of blind eyes to widen. 

Paul was no longer that impressionable kid that chased John around like a puppy, but he was still a joyous bubble of energy and raw emotions. John was addicted to him. He was not idiotic enough to believe that Paul could ever be in love with him, but that didn’t matter much. As long as John could be by his side, he would get his fill.

“Woah.” A voice said.

John turned his head to see George, still in pajamas, with a cup of tea on his hands and a shocked look on his face.

It was at this moment that John realized that he had just said all of that out loud. John paled and he stared at George in horror.

But before either boy could speak, Paul groaned from the floor and grumbled out, “What tim’ issit?”

George cleared his throat. “Around eleven.” He said. “Brekkie’s here. You fell asleep on the floor after bringing John here and I threw a blanket at ye.”

Paul sat up, looking illegally adorable. “Oh.” Was all he said. 

“I don’t want to go.” John exclaimed, once again against his will.

George, for the first time realizing exactly how the potion could affect their lives, simple nodded. “Alright then.” And he practically ran off.

Paul frowned, “What’s the ma-?”

John jumped off the bed and ran into the loo, pressing a towel against the torrent of words that exploded out of his mouth. He drowned the explanation out and made sure the door was locked. Paul  _ couldn’t  _ ask. 

His partner knocked on the door. “Johnny, are you okay?”

Okay, simple question meant simple answer.

“No.”

“Hangover?”

“No.”

“Then what-“

“Please leave, Paul. I want you to leave.”

Silence.

“Oh.” A cough. “Okay, um…”

John sighed. “I’m sorry, Paul. But I want you to leave.”

His answer was the sound of steps fading away.

With a frustrated groan, John fell against the sink and sniffed. “I hate this.” He whispered.

He didn’t know how much longer he could last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment if you liked

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed.  
> My tumblr is @fanficmoi if you wanna chat. 
> 
> Leave a kudo and/or a comment if you like this story . 
> 
> love


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